The First Princess's Invasion (Victoria's POV)
My age: twenty-four.
As the First Imperial Princess of the Empire, Colonel of the Imperial Army, and commander of the cavalry, I, Victoria von Arzenheim, held one firm and longstanding conviction.
'I won't marry anyone weaker than me for the rest of my life.'
This wasn't arrogance or bravado.
It was simply the truth—I'd never met anyone stronger than me in my real life.
Ever since I first gripped a real sword at sixteen and stepped onto the battlefield, my world had been drenched in blood, shredded entrails, and the metallic tang of churned earth.
Every time I returned from severing an enemy commander's head, splattered in gore, people whispered of me as the Reaper of the Battlefield or the Bloodstained Rose, trembling in fear.
To me, men were nothing more than slabs of meat that couldn't block my blade on the field and lost their heads for it, or sniveling cowards groveling at my feet.
That hostage from the Sterling Kingdom—the one who supposedly dazzled Father in the Grand Audience Hall yesterday—would be no different.
Daring to deceive the Emperor with his slippery three-inch tongue?
With one burning intent to rip out that insolent tongue on the spot, I kicked open the door to the guest palace room where the rat was staying.
BAMMM!!!
The thick oak door was far too frail to withstand my kick.
"Who the hell are you!!! You treacherous tongue that dared fool His Majesty's eyes!!!"
I stormed into the room, drawing my razor-sharp longsword amid a surge of killing intent.
And there, at the reception table by the sunlit window, sat that rat of a hostage from Sterling Kingdom, Ian Sterling. I meant to make an example of him.
Ah, of course, I had no intention of killing him.
Just breaking him around the waist would do.
Considering the Sterling Kingdom's military strength I'd confirmed with my own eyes, they wouldn't have the guts to protest even if their hostage ended up half-crippled.
"……."
But the moment I locked eyes with Ian Sterling sitting there, my thoughts ground to a halt.
...H-He's... handsome.
Ian Sterling sat bathed in sunlight streaming through the window.
In my barren world, choked with the stench of blood and dirt, here was a man who seemed pulled straight from a painting—untouched by time's relentless march.
Soft blackish-brown hair that gleamed with subtle golden highlights in the light, utterly unlike the stiff, coarse locks of imperial men.
Beneath his naturally tousled golden bangs, honey-sweet amber eyes—clear and profound—curved toward me with gentle warmth.
He wore only a luxurious silk shirt that draped lightly over his frame, no bulky armor or gaudy trinkets.
His long, slim build was perfectly proportioned, yet his broad shoulders and noble neckline exuded a breathtaking blend of decadent allure and intellectual elegance.
"They say this is the most delicious pudding in the capital, Your Highness. Thanks to His Majesty's generosity allowing me out, I just bought it on Amber White's recommendation. But there's quite a lot—too much for me alone."
His soft, velvety voice made my shoulders twitch before I could even react.
"Would you... care to join me?"
That gentle low tone resonated in my ears.
The moment he looked up with that leisurely smile, my mind blanked.
Unthinkingly, I hid the raised longsword behind my back.
"……I-I'll eat."
My voice came out thin and eerie, even to my own ears—like something out of a ghost story.
I tossed my sword to the floor with a clang and stiffly approached like a wooden log. He rose smoothly, pulling out the chair on his side for me as if it were the most natural thing.
"Please, have a seat here, Your Highness."
"Ah……."
No brutish imperial general had ever pulled out a chair for me first.
As I sat there in a daze, he handed me a silver spoon.
His long, slender fingers brushed lightly over the back of my rough hand, callused from the sword's grip.
My heart thumped against my ribs and went wild.
Heat rushed to my face.
"I'm not sure if you'll like sweets. Knight Amber swore it was the capital's finest pudding."
Ian Sterling.
He sat across from me, steering the conversation with a calm, pleasant voice.
It was astonishing.
Most noblemen shrank before me, unable to meet my eyes or busy fawning desperately. But not this man.
He skipped the usual drivel about philosophy or court gossip that nobles always spewed.
Instead, he masterfully brought up topics I'd find comfortable and enjoyable—like recent imperial cavalry tactics or stories from my childhood.
"Indeed, the Empire's cavalry owes its devastating breakthrough power to Your Highness's tactical brilliance."
Those amber eyes held me completely, nodding along with affectionate agreement, and I fell into a delusion that I was the most special, respected person in the world.
Dazed by his eloquent speech and consideration, I nodded absently—only to realize the sticky caramel pudding (which I'd normally scorn as tongue-glue) had vanished into my mouth nonstop.
...Am I... eating this carb bomb?
Me, who gnawed on jerky with bloodied hands on the battlefield, now licking sweet sugar globs?
"Glad it suits you. Here, try the fruit tart too."
"Uh, y-yeah. Th-thanks……."
I took even the tart he pushed toward me with those long, elegant fingers, entranced.
Unaware of the cream smearing my lips, I was drunk on his kindness.
It felt like being intoxicated.
Of course, figuratively speaking.
I never get drunk.
But in front of this man... I wanted to.
How much time had passed?
Confirming the plates were spotless, the fog in my head finally cleared, and I realized the insanity I'd just committed.
Storming in to beat him senseless, only to melt at his gentlemanly chair-pulling, sit side by side chattering, and devour desserts!
"I-I gotta go! N-No, I'll be off! B-Busy!"
I shot up like a spring.
The chair toppled behind me, but I had no time to care.
"Ah, yes. Take care, Your Highness. Thanks to you, it was a delightful afternoon. Come again anytime."
Ian Sterling waved with softly curved eyes.
His hair sparkled in the sunlight, sending my heart plummeting once more.
Face burning to my earlobes, I fled like a chased beast.
"……."
In the corridor outside the demolished door—ripped clean off its hinges—I ran straight into the one person I least wanted to see.
"…Amber, why are you here?"
"Because Your Highness sent me here yourself."
"No, why are you standing in the hallway!"
"'Cause I'm your escort?"
Amber, who'd rolled through battlefields as my direct aide for years, leaned against the wall staring at me with a bizarre expression.
Her mouth, usually quick with banter, hung slack like her jaw might unhinge.
Her gaze fixed on my face, red as if it'd burst.
"…Y-Your Highness. Your mouth, uh."
"W-What? What?"
"Tart cream…"
"Oh, oh yeah…"
I wiped it off absentmindedly, then a surge of shame and irritation boiled over at her dumbfounded look.
"What're you staring at?!"
I bellowed and glared, then clapped a hand over my mouth.
Fear flashed that Ian Sterling inside might startle at my thunderous shout.
Idiot, Victoria! You played all dainty in there, and now you scream like a peasant?!
"Y-Your Highness…? That face—what the…"
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
Mouth sealed, I stomped in place, glaring daggers at Amber.
Crack!
"……"
The marble floor shattered under my foot, unable to withstand the force. What kind of weak-ass stone is this???
"……"
"Your Highness…"
"Sh-Shut up! Get lost! I-I'm going first!"
I bolted to escape the quarters as fast as possible—only to yank the doorknob clean off by mistake.
Amber gawked at the broken knob dangling from my hand, horrified.
"……Shit!"
Never in my life had I so resented my own strength.